


All For You

by mywishisfordeath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), I apologize in advance, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is too good for this world, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Orphan Keith (Voltron), Other, Pining Keith (Voltron), Read at Your Own Risk, Violent, Yandere, Yandere AU, i do not condone or support any actions of keith, keith is really violent, keith is the yandere, keith is twisted, klance, lance has a cat, more tags added later, protect lance squad, this gets dark sorry, this gets really intense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywishisfordeath/pseuds/mywishisfordeath
Summary: Keith’s life has always been dull.Until Lance walked into it.Now Keith is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Lance.Whatever it takes.Anything.or: a yandere!Keith au where Lance is oblivious to (just about) everything around him





	1. Color

Grey.  
That was his past, present, future. Colorless and dull and bleak. Oh sure, he could see color, he sure as hell wasnt colorblind, but that’s how the world around him felt.  
Grey. Colorless. Dull. Bleak. With no purpose or meaning.  
Keith supposed as soon as he was done with high school, he would pass along, being one with the crowd, never standing out, getting good but not great grades. Not being a part of those loud and rowdy kids that drew all attention to them saying, “hey look at me I’m important look look look at me”.  
Keith was definitely not one of those people. An orphan since he was a kid, he had never known his mom and his dad had died and passed on to whatever life was next. Spent years in orphanages or foster homes, long, winding years, barely aware of the time passing by.  
Just getting by, just doing enough.  
There was no massive purpose or saving grace to his life. No person worth the world or even half of the world.  
Sure, there was Shiro, who had been a part of the dumb Big Brother program from one of the orphanages. Genuinely cared for Keith, or so he said, and it should have brought something to Keith’s life. But still, nothing. It mattered to Keith, he supposed, but it was like mattering about breathing or something small or insignificant. It was like throwing a small light into the void. It did nothing.  
Keith wasn’t depressed.  
Keith wasn’t afraid to die, but he didn’t exactly want to either. He didn’t think about the future or what it would hold. He would get through high school, graduate college, have a quiet job somewhere, and die. He didn’t care about the future or what it would hold.  
That was going to be his life.  
He was fine with it.  
Until Lance came along.  
Keith’s junior year at Garrison High School was supposed to be another lifeless year. Freshmen and sophomore year were.  
Then a bright, bubbly, and absolutely gorgeous boy decided to waltz into Keith’s life.  
His name was Lance McClain. He was from Cuba, and he instantly fit into the popular crowd. Everyone liked him. Everyone.  
And then all of a sudden, Keith’s life had color.  
Bright bursts of yellow and orange. Pink on the cherry blossom trees. Purple at sunset. Red on the fruit at the market near school. Green on the grass. All shades, all hues, all colors of the rainbow.  
With one color specifically.  
Blue.  
Ocean blue.  
The color of Lance’s eyes.  
Keith had never said a word to Lance. Never spoken to him, introduced himself. Only ever looked at him.  
And damn, there was a lot to look at.  
All of a sudden, every time Keith passed him in the hallways from class to class, he was not empty anymore.  
He was burning.  
Roaring, burning, raging fire, eating him alive.  
Red fire.  
And god, Keith felt alive. Breathing. Breathing. Heart pumping.  
This had meaning.  
This was purpose.  
And then Lance would pass by, keep living his life, keep taking precious breaths, talking to classmates or on his phone.  
And the fire was extinguished.  
Grey. Colorless. Dull. Bleak.  
And all of a sudden he hated his life.  
He needed the fire. Needed it, craved it.  
He needed Lance.  
The problem was, Lance was always surrounded by people socializing with him, saying stupid things like “how’s so-and-so’s class” or “I like that jacket” or “Are you joining any clubs?”.  
People that didn’t really want to know Lance. Just wanted to know who he was.  
But Keith was different.  
He desired to know everything about Lance, each detail, no matter how minuscule. He wanted to know what kept him awake at night, he wanted to know what kept his beautiful heart pumping.  
These people didn’t want to know Lance.  
Not like he did.  
And then Keith was burning for a different feeling.  
That feeling eating him alive, consuming him. Gnawing deep in his gut, forcing its ugly head to rear itself. Taunting him.  
Jealousy.  
Jealousy. Rage. Fire.  
He could control it well enough while in the halls of school. This people could never possibly take Lance away from him. That would never happen.  
He could control it.  
And then he couldn’t.  
It was three weeks into the school year. One day before class started, Keith was sitting on a bench and pretending to study some notes for some test that didn’t matter while watching Lance out of the corner of his eye while he, being the social butterfly that he was, chatted it up with a group of classmates. It was a normal day. Nothing extraordinary. Just some kids talking before a long day of class.  
And then Keith noticed some girl on the edge of the circle of kids not-so-stealthily checking out Lance. Eyeing him like it was her right. Then the worst possible thing that could have occurred happened.  
Lance caught her eye and winked at her. The girl erupted into giggles.  
Keith’s pulse escalated into dangerous heights.  
Dangerous for who, though?  
Him?  
Or the girl that had possibly made the worst mistake of her life?  
She was giggling again and eyeing him and waving at Lance shyly.  
Scratch that.  
It was definitely dangerous for her.  
Something dangerous was screaming in Keith’s lungs, in his veins.  
Murder.  
He made a promise with himself as the school bell rang.  
He would do whatever it took to protect Lance.  
Whatever he had to do.  
Anything for him.  
Anything for the boy that had activated the growling bonfire in Keith’s chest.  
Anything.  
Anything.  
Everything.


	2. The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plaxum wants Lance.  
> Lance is just oblivious to everything around him.  
> Keith will do whatever is necessary to protect Lance from Plaxum.  
> Whatever is necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: contains explicit language and descriptions of violence. Read at your own risk.

Her name was Plaxum.  
Friends with Swirn, Blumfump, and Luxia.  
Blond, pale and smooth skin, sea-green eyes. Blond hair pulled back into low ponytails. Long legs, delicate hands and arms. She had a beauty that other girls would kill for.  
Kind, loyal and protective to her friends.  
Not innocent, by any means. She had slept her way around the jocks and probably half of the school’s population by the end of sophomore year.  
One of those popular girls that could get any guy she wanted.  
And right now she wanted Lance.  
She was that girl that had waved at him.  
That had checked him out.  
Having the audacity to act shy as she did so, as though she hadn’t fucked her way into her reputation.  
Had the audacity to giggle when he winked at her.  
He was obviously just being friendly to a fellow student.  
Being friendly.  
To a fellow student.  
Being friendly.  
Yes.  
That was it.  
Being.  
Friendly.  
Yes.  
Friendly.  
She didn’t deserve it.  
No one did.  
No one deserved Lance.  
Ever since that day that had made Keith’s insides burn with a fire hotter than the sun, Keith had studied Florona.  
It had been a week.  
He knew her schedule (started with economics, ended with biology), her handwriting (from sloppy notes she had thrown in the trash can), the club she was in (Ocean Life club; she was a fan of sea animals), where she was before school (at that circle near the front gates where she had dared to wave at Lance), during lunch (near a bench on the eastern part of the rooftop), and after school (Ocean Life club for an hour, and then headed out the front gates to her home).  
He knew she was a hopeless romantic at heart, judging by the conversations he had overheard when Plaxum was talking to her friends. (Hopeless romantic, as if.)  
He also knew that she joked about having a fear of heights.  
Fear of heights.  
How interesting.  
She was having a bad day during one of the, uh, observation days and she was complaining to Swirn that she was afraid her life was going to be in vain.  
Well.  
Wasn’t that interesting.  
Keith knew he had to make his move when there was no one around.  
When she was helpless.  
When she had no where to go.  
Slowly, an idea came to mind.  
Keith’s grin was wicked, cruel, and would stop your heart if someone saw it.  
He knew what he had to do. 

It was Thursday. Keith had started observations on Monday.  
What can he say, he was a fast thinker.  
It was lunchtime. 12:30.  
No one near Plaxum’s locker.  
Keith held the little yellow post-it note in his hand, waiting for students to disperse and leave the locker area.  
It was a good note, he had to admit. Handwriting altered, sloppy and small but still eligible.  
The note said, “Plaxum, I have a crush on you and I think you have a crush on me too. Meet me on the school rooftop at 4:00. And if it’s okay with you, kissing won’t be the only thing we’ll be doing. Signed, anonymous”.  
If Plaxum was as big of a slut as Keith thought she was, she would have no problem going up to meet someone on a deserted rooftop to go fuck someone. Hell, she had done it sophomore year, and it had been around all of the school. And her, being the attention whore she is, she held on to that piece of gossip and confirmed it at every possible chance.  
The area was clear.  
Plaxum, like the idiot she is, had forgotten to close her locker when putting a book away.  
Shrugging at almost how easy this was, Keith slipped the note into Plaxum’s locker and left it how he had found it.  
As he rushed away from the locker with a small grin to himself, Keith wondered when the last time he felt a thrill like this was.  
Probably never.  
Going into the commons area of the high school, Keith sat down and pretended to read some flash cards for a class while keeping his eye on Lance.  
Lance.  
Beautiful.  
Gorgeous.  
Mine.  
Mine.  
Mine.  
As the bell rang, Keith felt the ghost of guilt hollowing in his chest and wondered if Plaxum really did deserve this.  
Then Plaxum appeared behind Lance.  
What the FUCK.  
She whispered something in his ear, giggling and swaying her hips as she walked away and give him the eyes that could seduce any boy at this school to drop their pants and take her right there.  
She was a certified slut in action.  
Lance just looked confused and a little stunned as she walked away.  
Keith felt the fire.  
Burning.  
Jealously.  
Protect.  
Protect.  
Protect Lance.  
Lance.  
Lance.  
Mine.  
She definitely deserved this. 

4:00. Rooftop.  
Keith knew that Plaxum had read the note because he saw her reading it over during a passing period.  
Good.  
It was almost too easy.  
The bitch was running late, Keith thought. Scowled to himself. You would think her dumb ass would at least try to be on time for a “booty call” as she undoubtedly thought this was.  
Keith was standing in a corner of the rooftop behind a couple of trash bins.  
Unseen.  
Unheard.  
He had been very careful to cover his tracks.  
Nothing. No proof. Had destroyed the pencil that he had written both notes with. Was wearing gloves to prevent his fingerprints from showing up. Taken extra cautions to make sure no one saw him.  
Easy. All of it.  
All for Lance.  
Footsteps. Light, small strides.  
Plaxum.  
She walked over to her usual lunchtime spot and waited on the railing, overlooking the track at the back of the school.  
Quiet.  
Quiet.  
Always quiet. Never heard, never seen.  
Plaxum hardly knew what was happening before Keith pushed her off of the side of the building.  
She screamed as she fell down the two stories.  
She saw Keith’s face.  
Confusion.  
Right before she hit the ground.  
A bone-shattering crack was heard. Plaxum had landed face-down on the grass below, her left leg bent at a gag-inducing angle. Right arm pinned underneath her from trying to stop the fall.  
And the blood. So much blood.  
Blood probably on her face too, judging from the way she had hit the ground and most likely cracked her skull open.  
It was done.  
She was dead.  
Lance was safe from her.  
As Keith looked down at her, he felt nothing. Just a cold, dark void.  
Absolutely nothing.  
No remorse.  
No guilt.  
He had done what needed to be done.  
As the final touch, Keith left a note with “Plaxum’s” handwriting. It had been beyond easy to copy her handwriting, honestly. Loopy and messy, the note spelled out to say, “There was no meaning in this life for me anymore. My life is in vain, as I always knew and feared it would be. Signed, Plaxum.”  
Done.  
Easy.  
The teen suicide rate in America was about 70% more or less, last time Keith had checked. It always fluctuated.  
Why not add one more?  
As Keith left school, he thought about Lance.  
He had done this for him.  
Anything for him.  
Anything.  
Everything.  
All for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is loosely based off of the game Yandere Simulator. That’s where the whole yandere!Keith idea came from.  
> leave comments and feedback! everything is appreciated. 
> 
> go yell at me on tumblr: mywishisfordeath101


	3. New Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Pidge have a discussion. Lance is Extra™️. 
> 
> Keith is watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains explicit language so beware of that. 
> 
> This chapter serves as a filler chapter, basically showing how the students are reacting to the circumstances around them. There will be more of these. Their other purpose is to bring some light and humor into this fanfic, so it’s not all dark and violent.

“He certainly is the social butterfly, isn’t he?” Hunk sighed, looking at his new best friend chatting it up with some girl. What was her name? Nyem? Nena? Nyma?  
“Did you expect anything less? Every girl is all over him, swooning about his beautiful eyes,” Pidge scoffed, spinning around in her chair as she looked over the lab they were supposed to be doing.   
They were in bio class, 2nd period of the day, and instead of working, Lance had decided to talk to yet another pretty blonde. Typical.   
“Not every girl,” Hunk said with a mock pointed stare at the short girl next to him.   
“Please tell me that was a joke,” Pidge laughed. “Me, the self-proclaimed asexual and deemed the ‘lesbian messiah’ by the upperclassmen?”  
“Can’t deny the gay,” Hunk shrugged, looking around the classroom to see if anyone was actually doing work.   
And that answer was no. Nope. Not one damn person was working on the lab. The mob mentality of not working, while impressive, was rampant in high schoolers, and that was a solid fact.   
“Hey,” Pidge remarked, swiveling around in her chair to look at Hunk. “What do ya think about what happened to Plaxum?”  
A touchy subject right there. It was Monday, three days after Plaxum had committed suicide.   
“You mean how she...uh....” Hunk looked around, seeing if any of the students surrounding them were previously friends with Plaxum. Her friends had taken it hard when they heard the news. Group therapy was needed. Lots of it.   
“Yes Hunk. How she jumped off of the rooftop after school and how her body wasn’t discovered until a first period P.E. class found her the next day, thus traumatizing everyone in said class. Is that what you meant?” Pidge deadpanned, not caring who was around.   
“I just don’t get why she did it” Pidge continued, ignoring Hunk’s squawk of disbelief. “I mean, she had everything going for her in her life. Pretty, probably would have gotten into modeling instead of college. Financially stable. All good things in her life. And she definitely didn’t die a virgin. She fucked enough dudes to form a harem.”  
“Pidge!” Hunk whispered hoarsely, leaning in. “Don’t disrespect the dead!”  
“It’s not disrespecting, it’s just stating it plainly. Plus, you know I don’t give a shit,” Pidge shrugged, shifting to look at the lab they had yet to start.   
Hunk grunted, silently agreeing, while begrudgingly. Pidge was right too damn often.   
And then someone caught his eye.   
Keith.   
He looked like he was brooding, which wasn’t new, but there was something off about the way he was holding himself.   
Keith was beyond an edgelord, there was no doubt in anyone’s minds about that. Quiet, never speaking unless spoken to, and when he did speak, he was closed off but polite about it. Good grades. One of those kids that blended into the crowd effortlessly. Kept to himself. Antisocial. No friends, and most likely didn’t want any. He had the constant air of “don’t talk to me don’t look at me leave me alone”.   
But this was different.   
Something wasn’t right.   
He was looking at someone.   
Staring, almost.   
And he looked.... off.   
Hunk followed Keith’s line of sight.   
And it led him to Lance.   
Hunk nudged Pidge and quietly called out to her.   
“What the fuck do you want, man? One of us has to do this damn lab,” Pidge sighed, rubbing her hand through her short hair, annoyed that she had been snapped out of focusing.   
“Look at Keith,” Hunk said quietly, keeping his back to said topic of discussion.   
Pidge looked, trying not to be too obvious, but still blatantly not caring if anyone saw her. She didn’t seem impressed by what she saw.   
“Ok, and? He’s acting emo like he always is. What’s your point?” Pidge huffed.   
“He’s looking at Lance.” Hunk hissed.   
“Oh. Oh, yea. What the fuck is he doing, looking at Lance, how dare he.”  
“Pidge, you shitty gremlin, stop acting like an asshole. Look at how he’s composing himself. He looks angry.”  
“Hunk, I am many things, but shitty I am not. I am a classy gremlin.”  
“Pidge.”  
“Alright, alright.”  
Pidge’s eyebrows raised slightly, looking confused and intrigued at the same time. “Why does he look so angsty?” she scrunched up her freckled nose.   
“That’s what I said, dumbass. And I don’t know, but it’s kinda weird, don’t ya think?” Hunk pondered, eyebrows raising.   
“I mean, he could have the gay for Lance.” Pidge snorted.   
“Pidge.”  
“It’s probably nothing to worry about, my dude, but do you think we should tell Lance?”   
“Nah. I don’t see the point to that. He’s oblivious three quarters of the time anyways. He wouldn’t realize it even if we pointed it out to him.” Hunk said, rolling his eyes.   
“True.”  
At that moment, said topic of conversation burst in.   
“Hunkkkkkk!” Lance wailed, throwing himself across Pidge and Hunk’s lab table, causing their papers to fly everywhere. With a sigh Pidge bent down to pick them up, and not so subtlety flipped Lance the bird. “I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m going to faillllllll.”  
“Surprise surprise, Drama Queen #2 is here, begging for help yet again. You’ve been here for four weeks already, dipshit.” Hunk huffed, grinning.   
“Excuse me, Hunk, while I gratefully acknowledge and accept that I am, in fact, a drama queen, I am not a number two. Lancey Lance is number one at everything he does. Who must I fight to the death for the title of Drama Queen #1?”  
“That would be Pidge.” Hunk gestured to said drama queen next to him.   
“Hunk, I am not a drama queen. I will fight you and win, you ray of sunshine. The one and only title I will accept is lesbian messiah,” Pidge shot back.   
“‘Lesbian messiah’?” Lance said, making air quotes.  
“Indeed, and that is one title you, young padawan, will ever be able to take from me. I made that title.” Pidge smirked, eyes gleaming and wicked.   
Lance rose his hands up in mock surrender. He looked over at Hunk. “She’s scary. Do I wanna know how she ‘made’ that title?” he stage whispered.  
Hunk remarked, “It’s a long story.”  
Hunk, Pidge, and Lance laughed. “This is the beginnings of a great friendship,” Hunk smiled.   
“And with new friendships come new nicknames!” Lance proclaimed as the bell rung, turning to Pidge. “So, what will it be? Pidge-podge? Pumpkin patch? Cabbage Patch kid? Pidgey? Pokémon, gotta catch em all?”  
“Call me Pidgey and the next thing you know you’re gonna be six feet underground.” Pidge snorted, walking out of the room.   
Lance and Hunk followed, with Lance suggesting alternative nicknames for Pidge, and new nicknames for Hunk. “Hacky sack” was one of them. Laughter followed.   
Unbeknownst to the trio, one person kept a constant eye on them.   
Constantly.   
Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is on the hunt yet again.  
> Also I love the Garrison trio’s friendship, so that will be explored in this. 
> 
> tumblr: mywishisfordeath101
> 
> leave feedback!
> 
> PSA: i am unsure when i will be able to create and upload new chapters, but just knows that this story has its hooks in me and i’m super excited about this.   
> PSA 2: whatever ideals some characters have, i do not. just felt the need to clear that up.   
> PSA 3: there will be a lot of characters in this. they just haven’t been introduced yet.   
> thanks for reading!


	4. The Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has to make a more thought-out plan. He is willing to take whatever risks are necessary.   
> All for one purpose, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly less graphic than the first death in chapter 2, but still. 
> 
> always read at your own risk.

Nyma. Another blonde. Long limbs. Stocky build. More of a tomboy than any other stereotype. Probably went through a skater phase when she was younger. Decently pretty, enough to be a threat.   
And she liked Lance.   
Liked Lance.   
Flirted with him during biology.   
God, would the people that liked Lance never end?  
Lance was Keith’s, didn’t anyone understand that?  
His.   
Only his.   
As Keith weighed over the situation, he shrugged, figuring that he could do a fake suicide for Nyma too. Easy. Meet her on the rooftop, push her off, and boom. Crisis averted yet again.   
But wait, he thought. That wouldn’t work. People would start to become suspicious. Two suicides in two weeks? And both at school, at the same place, no less. That doesn’t seem very coincidental.   
No, no. That wouldn’t work. Keith needed something more complex, more designed and thought out. Not just a simple push-the-bitch-and-oop-she-dead kinda deal. He needed to get Nyma alone somehow.   
Alone and vulnerable.   
The next day at school (Tuesday), Keith decided to follow Nyma around school, while keeping a watchful eye for witnesses and Lance especially. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if Lance saw him.  
As he followed her around, Keith growled to himself as he realized a very important key obstacle he had missed.   
Rolo.   
Nyma’s best friend, he was stockily built as well, scruffy haired with long limbs. Tough, a boxer, with the typical hard-headed jock stereotype. Fiercely devoted to Nyma.   
And they were always together.   
If they didn’t have a class together, they ran to each other’s passing period to walk together. If one had a test during lunch, the other would go into the classroom and sit in there. If one was absent, chances are the other wouldn’t go to school.   
Always together.   
One and the same.   
Attached at the hip.   
And now, a major problem for Keith.   
If he was unable to get Nyma alone, he wasn’t going to be able to dispose of her. And if Nyma just mysteriously disappeared, Rolo would be instantly suspicious of the circumstances.   
Shit.   
This was a problem.   
Especially since each day, Nyma found an excuse to talk to Lance.   
And their conversations were getting longer each day as well.   
Thirty seconds.   
One minute.   
Two minutes.   
Three.   
Too long.   
The fire in Keith’s gut was an ugly thing now. Blazing, twisting. Ugly.   
This needed to end.   
Soon.   
Now.   
How was he going to get Nyma alone?  
The answer came to Keith during lunch while he was eating alone in one of the hallways.   
Cooking club.   
The one difference Nyma and Rolo had was the clubs they were in. Rolo was in track, him being the jock he was.   
Nyma was in cooking club.   
If Keith interpreted hallway gossip correct, then Nyma was actually terrible at cooking. The only thing she could make was cookies and soup or something. She just liked to cook because it gave her a freedom to choose what she wanted to do or something like that. In another life, Keith would have respected that. In a life where Nyma was never interested in Lance.   
But how could Keith manipulate her downfall through the cooking club? He sure as hell was not going to join, because that would instantly raise suspicions that something was up. Keith, the antisocial emo edgelord, joining a club, and Cooking Club no less?  
No, that wouldn’t do.   
Could he maybe tamper with her food or something?  
Make it look like a mistake?  
Like an accident on Nyma’s behalf?  
Some kind of fast-acting “virus” to quickly dispose of her?  
A lightbulb clicked in Keith’s head.   
Poison.   
That was it.   
Something that Nyma wouldn’t be able to see coming with a 50-foot pole.   
Did that metaphor make sense? Keith wasn’t the best with that.   
Now, where was he going to get poison?  
As Keith looked out of a nearby window that over looked the grass, he had his answer.   
The Botanical Club.   
Garrison High School was a diverse high school, that’s for sure. There were way too many clubs at this damn school, Keith thought. In Keith’s mind, diversity was a good thing, until diversity turned into chaos and fighting.   
Anyways.   
The Botanical Club.   
Formerly known as the Gardening Club, the BC’s members all had a passion for botany or gardening and were probably going to pursue careers in either.   
A few years back there had been a rat problem at the school when rats somehow got in and start to destroy the gardens and flowers. The rats had flooded in, covering the school gardens and track, looking like a swarming, writhing, black River Nile. The problem had been solved with rat poison and extensive administrative permission.   
The Botanical Club still kept a surplus of rat poison in the gardening shed in case another problem arose.   
That would work.   
Keith waited the rest of the day out patiently and rushed to the club’s area on the west of the school grounds, covering his tracks and making sure no one saw him.   
It would cost if someone saw him.   
He had probably 15 or so minutes to get the poison in the shed and get out undetected.   
Easier said than done.  
Especially when Keith discovered that the gardening shed was locked.   
Shit.   
This just escalated to a fucking pain in Keith’s ass.   
Deciding on Plan B, Keith waited behind the shed until the president of the club showed up to prepare for the club meeting.   
They were here.   
Hurry, hurry.   
Go, go, go.   
Keith sneaked up behind the club president and pickpocketed the shed key off of the belt holding the keys.   
And apparently, pickpocketing was way too easy.   
Or maybe the club president was just a stupendous idiot.   
Key in hand, Keith ran to the shed, being careful that his footprints didn’t show up in the dirt. Unlocking the shed, he rushed in, grabbed the closest container of rat poison he could find, and hurried out. Locked the shed.   
Almost safe.   
One more thing left.   
Keith threw the key underhand to where the club president was standing, and it hit the ground softly.   
Their back was still to him. Thank whoever was up there in the heavens.   
Hopefully it would just look like the key had dropped off of its ring.   
He hoped.   
He had no time for anything other than to just hope that his cover would fail.   
Sprinting away and hopping over the short bush enclosing the gardening area, Keith felt a slight adrenaline rush he hadn’t felt in his whole life.   
This was fun.   
This was fun to him.   
Manipulation, stealing.   
Killing.   
And he was doing it all for Lance.   
All for him. 

Cooking Club room. Thursday.   
Two days since Keith had come up with his plan and stolen the rat poison from the Botanical Club.   
What a rush.   
It was after school, another day of dull school dragging by. Keith ran his plan through his head all day, almost certain this wouldn’t fail.   
It really needed to not fail.   
Cooking Club starting in 10 minutes.   
Keith needed to assure that Nyma and Nyma only consumed the poison. Otherwise, it definitely wouldn’t look like an accidental food poisoning.   
Looking in the club fridge, Keith discovers a brown paper bag with a sticky note that says “Nyma”.   
Well.   
Isn’t that lucky?  
Keith opened the bag and finds a simple sandwich with some kind of meat in it.   
Carefully measuring how much poison would serve his purpose, he hurriedly put a small dosage into a syringe he had stolen onn the desk in the nurse’s office and shot the poison into the meat, put the sandwich back together, and stuffed the paper bag back in the fridge.   
He hoped the dosage was right.   
Too little poison, and it would just give Nyma a stomach virus and cause her to hurl her guts out. Which, while sounding amusing, wouldn’t erase the problem of her existence, and that needed to be taken care of.   
Too much poison, and she would drop dead almost immediately after eating, writhing on the floor in obvious pain. And it would be too clear that someone had poisoned her.   
This was a risk.   
And it was a risk Keith was prepared to take.   
He had one mindset.   
One purpose.   
One need.   
One desire.   
He just had to be sure that if things went wrong, he wasn’t the one that fingers were pointed to. However, Keith wasn’t too concerned about that. He excelled at lying and manipulating. Plus, he planned to destroy all evidence that he had ever been there, starting with crushing the syringe into pieces and then burning it.   
The poison dosage, if measured correctly, and it probably was, was supposed to take 30 minutes to work. Keith would check back later by walking by the club and seeing if anything was up. 

The poison worked.   
And it was so worth it.   
So worth the extra planning.   
Nyma was dead, rushed to the hospital before they discovered that there was nothing that could be done. Rolo was in shambles, devastated over his best friends death, and for some reason swearing off meat forever, because he insisted that Nyma had gotten salmonella or something.   
The Cooking Club was temporarily disbanded.   
And no one traced it back to Keith.   
Lance was safe again.   
Keith wondered how many times this would be necessary. How many people he would have to eliminate.   
However many it took.   
Whatever it takes. 

Hunk remembered Nyma complaining about having an upset stomach during the club meeting. They all sighed and said maybe she had gotten some bad stomach virus or something. Nyma agreed, laughing it off.   
And then she started choking.   
She was wheezing, saying she couldn’t breathe and she felt her insides corroding.   
Choking violently, hands flying to her throat as if that could somehow help what was happening on the inside.  
Organs deteriorating. Throat closing.   
All of the club members started screaming, crying for help, someone help her, help her.   
Hunk vividly remembered the look of pure terror and panic on Nyma’s face, absolute fear sketched on her features.   
That face would be in his nightmares.   
And then she fell to the floor, choking and screaming.   
The ambulance showed up shortly after and rushed Nyma to the hospital. The hospital was close by, like 15 minutes or so, so obviously they could do something, right? They could save her, right?  
Right?  
Not more than 10 minutes later, the hospital called the school and said that they regretted to inform the club members that Nyma was dead.   
Rolo had joined the club members in waiting for news at some point, and he collapsed, knees hitting the floor, crying, and refused to get up. Other Cooking Club members joined him, wailing.   
Nyma was dead. 

Keith heard the news and felt nothing.   
Nothing.   
Void.   
It was for a purpose, all this bloodshed.   
One purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and to ease off of the darkness of these chapters, the next chapter will be Lance-centric. I love my son, and he is too good for this world. 
> 
> update schedule is dependent on whenever i’m free, but i will update as soon as possible. i am unsure when and how this fix will end, but i do have a few later plot points, and i just somehow need to fill in the holes. leave feedback when and how you think this story will end.   
> as always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> tumblr: mywishisfordeath101


	5. This Is New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His name is Lance McClain.   
> This is his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentioned homophobia

This was... new.   
That’s what Lance had thought as he walked up to Garrison High School. Coming from Cuba, he was expecting something a bit smaller, less standoff-ish. He was wrong in his musings, as per usual. This school was massive, with two stories, a student-accessible rooftop, more clubs than he cared to know of (a forensics club? Seriously?), and enormous school grounds.   
So this was a lot different than what he was used to.   
His name was Lance McClain. Terribly disorganized, a bit scatterbrained when he had caffeine, but had good intentions with what he did when it mattered. Deep ocean blue eyes. Tall, lanky, tanned and freckled skin, no acne, brown hair. Knew he was good-looking, too, but tried (tried) to stay humble about it.   
“Stay humble, mijo. No one likes an arrogant and prideful pendejo”, as his abuela always used to say, which never failed to make his parents gasp, and insist against the use of such strong language. However, they did agree in the point that Abuela attempted to relay across, and taught their children with the same morals. It was a dog-eat-dog kind of world; there was no time for pride in the middle of it.   
Growing up in a small hometown in Cuba with his family, Lance had humble beginnings. Massive family, with grandparents, older and younger siblings, nieces, nephews, and both parents. An entire family tree all born and raised in the home country of Cuba. Lance loved and adored his family to his very core, and that mirrored in his actions. Kind hearted, totally loyal to those he trusted, a bit of flirt (his older siblings had taught him), selfless (in a very self-destructive kind of way). He was a family man; you sacrifice what you needed for the ones you love if they needed it more, or even less, than you did.   
So, yea. This was new. Friend groups were more like a rioting mob than a family when together. With all the parties thrown by Garrison students, you would think it was a college. There were even a few houses right across the street that students resided in, since the Garrison was pretty far from home for a lot of kids. And Lance was always one for a party. Just as long as he didn’t drink too much, because he had absolutely no inhibitions when he was bowled-over-backwards inebriated. Absolutely none. Not a good sight.  
Lance was adjusting fairly well to the new school, actually. No one bullied him, which was a new concept, and he was making a lot of new friends.   
Hunk and Pidge were his first friends, and they were in his grade. Lance knew that he was going to be stuck to their sides like glue, and Lance was really happy that they wanted to actually be his friends, unlike some students he had met that just wanted to claim to know the boy that had moved from Cuba.   
Hunk was like a ray of literal sunshine; he brought light and good vibes when he was around, and people always seemed to smile around him. An amazing cook, but he still had to work on making pizza; not exactly his strong suit. He made a mean pasta, though; almost better than his Mama’s back home.   
Pidge was insanely smart; at first glance, Lance had thought that she was a dude. She was not, and she had smirked and said she got that a lot. Sarcastic, but knew how to take a joke. Definitely a genius, and was probably running on just straight caffeine; Red Bull seemed to be the favorite nowadays.   
Next, he met Matt, Pidge’s older brother. A massive nerd and geek, but it ran in the family, he supposed. Kinda attractive, too, but Lance wasn’t about to catch feelings for Matt; he was Pidge’s brother, so Lance kept him off-limits.   
Shiro was really cool too. A jock, he played football, as if his body build wasn’t enough of a giveaway that the dude was stacked. He was a senior, which was surprising because he was super friendly, and he gave off an almost parental instinct whenever he (fake-)scolded Hunk and Pidge (her mostly) when the two of them did something stupid. He was, without a doubt, the dad friend of the group. The paternal vibe, for some stupid reason, made Lance feel safe, and he knew no one would mess with him while Shiro was his friend. Lance wouldn’t have to fear bullies.   
Now, Allura? She was damn gorgeous, with flowing white hair that reached her hips and dark chocolate skin. A cheerleader, but definitely not one of those stereotypical, basic ones. She was the captain of the varsity squad, Lance was pretty sure. Super smart; brains and beauty. She was a senior, like Shiro and Matt. However, Lance didn’t really want to pursue her, because she was a really great friend to him, didn’t treat him just like a really pretty object, and helped him with classes. Plus, apparently she was skilled at kickboxing and a ton of other fighting styles, and had an insanely short temper, so Lance really didn’t want to get on her bad side.   
He had a feeling that he was going to have a really good time here. And on a separate note, there were a bunch of attractive people at this school, in all and every gender and sexuality.   
See, there was an interesting topic of conversation. Sexuality. Lance struggled with his sexuality for years; hell, he still did. He had come to terms that he was bisexual, but he still often fought a losing battle with it. He had been in relationships with both boys and girls before, and he was not sure if he could decide if he preferred one gender over the other. Probably not, though.   
Lance was not planning on dating anyone so early into the school year; he didn’t want a bad reputation so early on. Didn’t want to be branded and labeled so early in to the new year at a new school.   
He couldn’t be bullied like he was before. Not again.   
When he was younger, he didn’t get why it was such a scandalous or laughable thing to like a person of the same sex. He liked who he liked, so why was that such a big deal? He wouldn’t understand why his ‘friends’ teased him endlessly, asking him nasty things that he didn’t get, asking which boy(s) he had a crush on. “They’re my friends,” he would think. “They’re not doing this on purpose, they’re not doing this to hurt me.”  
But they were doing it on purpose. All the way from first grade to fifth, Lance was teased and taunted, pushed and bullied, in ways that no young child finding themselves should endure.   
Sixth grade was different. Lance’s family found a bigger house a couple of towns away. When they moved, Lance felt only a pang of sorrow for his old childhood home, but not for his friends.   
Sixth grade meant a new school, and new beginnings. No one knew his past, no one knew his secrets. He was safe, free from bullying. And he was.   
For a while.   
In sixth grade, he was safe for a few weeks. Then people began to realize his presence, that he was, in fact, a person that did in fact exist, and all of a sudden he wasn’t invisible anymore. He made friends, sure, but he didn’t hold them close; always at an arms distance, one push away. He found bullies, but they didn’t taunt him for his closeted sexuality. They taunted him because he was a new kid. Bullies were everywhere, and Lance just had to realize that.   
Lance had expected this mocking and taunting, at least, because the new kid always got bullied right? And this time, he had new friends to back him up.   
Hopefully.   
That’s how he survived, all the way from sixth grade to sophomore year of high school. The bullies dispersed fast, actually, once people realized Lance was a typical class clown. He could make people laugh without trying. He was sarcastic and funny and a flirt.  
He learned what to say and what not to say, judging by people’s reactions. He learned how to read people while keeping his own emotions under lock. He learned how to smoke a wax pen at parties, which   
made him gag and cough before he discovered how to inhale the smoke into his lungs before exhaling it back out. He learned why alcohol was called firewater. He learned how to chug alcohol without spitting it out while it burned his throat. He learned how to hold back his gag reflex when drinking or smoking weed. He learned how to keep a girl wanting more during Seven Minutes In Heaven without actually giving her anything.   
He learned how to be the person that people wanted to meet. He learned how to be aloof, how to draw people to him. He learned how to be the person that everyone thought he was, the person that everyone expected him to be. The class clown, the cool guy, the flirt.  
Lance had made a lot of friends and a lot of acquaintances because of the way he pretended to be.   
And it was so tiring.   
It was exhausting him, destroying Lance from the inside-out. This was not who he was, was not who he wanted to be. But he needed to fit in, desired it, craved it. It was like being insane, whack-out-of-your-mind crazy, and being sane, level-headed, all at the same time. Trying to be yourself instead of some party trick, but afraid of rejection and the hurt that would ultimately come along with it.   
It was like walking on eggshells.   
Unsure of when something would crack, unsure of when something would change. He was so afraid of being bullied. So terrified of standing out in the wrong way. His family would tell him, “You have to stick up for yourself, no one will do it for you. If they choose to bully you, you must show them that you are stronger.” But that was before he started fitting in, started blending in.   
So yea. Lance had not really ever enjoyed school, not even when he flirted with girls and earned himself the title of “lover boy”. A title he hoped didn’t stick to him at the Garrison.   
And then Lance had moved to America without his family to attend the Garrison High School. It was a lot of money, and they all wanted Lance to have a chance to see what was beyond Cuba, and to get his education at one of the best chains of schools.   
He had to be good enough for this. He had to be. Otherwise, it was just all for loss. He would be letting his entire family down.   
Lance had been a bit homeless for a while, and had been absolutely ready to pay for one of those small, overpriced apartments down a block or two from the school during the first week of school. It was mostly his only choice. He had nowhere to go.   
And then he got an offer to live with Pidge and Hunk (and Matt, but he drifted to various student houses that he stayed at all the time). The rent was cheap, and the house was a short five-minute walk from the school.   
What was he supposed to do? Say no? Live on the streets in a new country? Sure, Lance and his family had visited America as many times as they possibly could, visiting various states and such. But he was alone, with barely enough money to get on by, and surprisingly hardly any luggage. Oh, and his Russian Blue pet cat; her name was Blue (he hadn’t known what to name her when he got her, and he was eleven at the time, okay) and she was absolutely gorgeous. He had refused to part with her, insisting that she come to America with him. His family agreed wholeheartedly; that way he would have a piece of his family with him, even when he was far away.   
Pidge had loved and absolutely adored Blue right away. Like, literal heart eyes in two seconds flat. She began squealing to Hunk that Lance had to, absolutely had to, live with them. He was all alone and broke and omygod Hunk look at her eyes she’s so beautiful I love her and MATT LOOK WE GOT A CAT but not really because she’s Lance’s but OMYGOD LOOK AT HER.   
So yea. This was a lot more different than he was used to. When he had moved in with Hunk and Pidge, taking the last open bedroom, Lance had flopped down on his new bed and sighed, staring at the blank ceiling.  
He desperately wanted this to be a new place for him. A new beginning. He couldn’t keep reliving the past. He couldn’t keep walking on eggshells, walking on glass. He would be the one to break if that happened.   
So here Lance was, four weeks into the school year, with two roommates, one that was constantly cooking to the point of obsessive, and one that stayed up all night doing who knows what on her computer, a small but great group of friends, pretty good grades for the start of a new year, a Russian Blue cat and surprisingly few objects from home, and no title flagged to his name.   
So, yea. This was different.   
And he was starting to like it.   
He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave feedback!
> 
> i am a bit stuck as to how to continue the story from here. please leave suggestions, because i have a few possible directions and ways that i can take this. if anyone has any ideas, they would be greatly appreciated LOL. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	6. Dynamite & Dares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets Lance. 
> 
> A dare is issued between a group of friends.

“Pidge, will you quit it? You’re being ridiculous.” Hunk sighed, slamming his locker door shut.   
Pidge glared up at the taller boy indignantly hissing at him the whole time. “No! Nyma was murdered! The forensic report came back with her cause of death to be rat poison. Rat poison, Hunk. There is no way in hell that Nyma killed herself with fucking poison; there are simpler ways to do that. There is a murderer at our school!” Pidge’s eyes were gleaming with a devious glint.   
Hunk gathered his books for his next class, looking very pale and very green in his face. He looked at Pidge wearily, and almost warningly said, “Pidge, drop it.“  
“But, Hunk, I know this, I can feel it, there’s no way that this was an accident, and-”  
“Pidge. Drop. It.”  
The smaller girl winced, and mentally slapped herself. She had forgotten that Hunk had witnessed Nyma choking firsthand. Him and the rest of the cooking club members had been unable to come to school for a decent week and a half, due to the stress and trauma that they experienced after.   
Pidge mumbled an apology, and Hunk gave her a joyless half-hearted smile, and they continued on to their respective classes.   
Keith watched the whole exchange behind a set of lockers, mentally cursing himself. People knew now. This was falling to shit really fucking fast.   
He could not get caught for this.   
Could not.   
Would not.   
Will not.   
Mumbling to himself and lowering his head down, Keith turned a corner to go to his next class, and all of a sudden accidentally ran into someone in the hallway, knocking him on his ass to the cold floor. Already fully prepared to start cussing this jackass out for being a dick and invading his personal space, Keith looked up, mouth open, ready to spew profanities.   
And his heart stopped.   
And the fire ignited.   
Lance.   
Lance was standing in front of him, rubbing his shoulder from where Keith hit him.   
Lance, looking down at Keith with those rich blue eyes.   
Lance, extending his hand to help Keith off the floor.   
Lance, almost shouting an apology, saying, “Omygod, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you, and I wasn’t paying attention and...” and kept rambling off a thousand apologies.   
And Keith had never felt a fire so burning. So destroying. So penetrating.   
So....  
Intense.   
Keith just kept staring.   
And staring.   
Staring at Lance.   
Staring into those eyes.   
Staring at the extended hand.   
This fire was going to consume him.   
Burn him from the inside out.   
And, oh, it felt so...  
Good.   
So alive.   
Keith shivered.   
“Hey, uh, are you okay? You look a little... shocked.” Lance asked, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, and grabbed Keith’s hand and pulled him off the floor.   
And Keith erupted.   
Exploded.   
Dynamite.   
Keith was an explosive, and Lance was the spark that lit him up.   
Fireworks.   
Red and blue.   
Boom.   
Boom.   
Boom.   
One.   
Two.  
Three hits.   
K.O.  
Gone.   
Obliterated into dust.   
And finally, after a million years, Keith spoke.   
“Uh, yea, just surprised me, is all.” Was that his voice? It was smooth, calm, cool as ice, a stark contrast to the burning inside of his very being.   
“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. The name’s Lance.” Lance grinned, flashing Keith a kilowatt smile, absolutely blinding him.   
Taking Keith’s breath away.   
Something panged deep down in Keith’s chest. Lance had never seen him before? Did he really blend in that well? Was he that invisible?   
Keith smashed those hurt feelings down fast before they could surface.   
Buried them.   
Destroyed them.   
“The name’s Keith.” Keith smiled, which was a strange occurrence. It was a genuine thing. It was somewhat frightening to him, and intrigued him. When had any of his emotions ever been genuine?  
And just as Lance was about to say something else, that damn fucking late bell rang, signaling the start of 3rd period on Tuesday morning.   
“Ah, shit! I can’t be late to this class again! I made a bet with my teacher!” Lance turned around and sped down the opposite hallway, barely pausing as he yelled over to Keith over his shoulder, saying, “See you around, Keith!”  
And Keith had not moved.   
Class didn’t matter anymore.   
He had met Lance.   
Lance.   
His love.   
His soulmate.   
His fire.   
His reason.   
He would never forget that feeling.   
Ever. 

Wednesday. Lunch. Outside cafeteria area.   
“This is a stupidass dare, Pidge. I’m not gonna do it.” Matt snorted, leaning his back into Shiro’s shoulder, glancing over at his boyfriend quickly with a fond look and a smile, which the jock sweetly returned.   
“Matt, don’t be a dumbass. It’s fucking funny. Plus, he won’t even say yes. And if he does, bam, have a threesome between you, Lance, and Shiro. Tell me that shit wouldn’t be funny.” Pidge snorted, taking a sip of her Monster drink.   
“I, personally, can think of many ways this can go wrong, but y’know, who the fuck cares? Don’t listen to the one person with the most common sense in this friend group.” Hunk chimed in as he sat down, holding hands with his girlfriend, Shay, who laughed at her boyfriend.   
Pidge, Matt, Shiro, Allura, Hunk, and Shay were hanging out during lunch where they always sat at the outside tables. Lance was not there, as he was trying to apologize to his English teacher for interrupting class and giving a very detailed comparison of Hamlet and The Lion King (not the second one, because according to Lance it was absolute trash). It was a very good comparison and many solid points were introduced, but the teacher didn’t appreciate that Lance had decided to give his speech during a lecture about the different uses of literary devices. Lance, however, deemed his lecture far more important and educational to the students of class 3A of 4th period.   
The teacher, however, disagreed.   
And now Lance was trying to persuade the teacher to not give him a months’ worth of detention.   
And according to Lance’s rapid-fire text messages to their group chat, it was not going well. 

King of life: guys this is noT GOING WELL

pidgey: your fault for giving a fucking monologue about The Lion King

stacked and jacked: apparently it was somewhat educational tho

King of life: y u say dat shiro

stacked and jacked: Clarke has been telling the story to every single one of her classes

stacked and jacked: and all the teachers

stacked and jacked: and every other faculty member

floor mat: yea i heard about it in all of my classes today

floor mat: even pe 

sunshine sparkles: ooF

rockie: well at least you’re famous lance

King of life: thanks shay

King of life: and thanks for the support Hunk my man

sunshine sparkles: no problem

coffee kween: although you shouldn’t have called TLK 2 “fucking white trash”

King of life: it is, but that’s besides the point

King of life: yea that’s prob where he problem was lolol

pidgey: yea THATS where the problem was 

pidgey: dumbass 

King of life: pidge i s2g...

King of life: shitshitshit hold on

“He is so dead,” Allura snorted, taking a sip of her green protein shake. Everyone gagged in unison, turning away from the rancid smell of the drink.   
“Allura, put that shit away. How do you manage to drink that with that goddamn smell?” Pidge pinched her nose shut, turning away with a sour look aimed at the juice. She was this close to triggering her gag reflex.   
In return, Allura merely shrugged and look at the drink with a sigh. “It’s dulled my senses honestly. But this bod didn’t come from eating fucking chips all the time.” She have a pointed look to Matt and Shiro at that.   
“Don’t you dare start judging my eating habits, princess.” Matt waved a pointed figure near Allura’s face. “Not my fault I have a fast metabolism.”  
“You have the body of Beyoncé, babe.” Shiro sighed, nuzzling into Matt’s shoulder. “Your hips don’t lie.”  
Everyone fake gagged for a different reason now, and it wasn’t because of Allura’s drink that smelled like death. Pidge rolled her eyes back into her head. “Those are two completely different pop artists, Shiro. Matt, have you taught him nothing?”  
Shaking his head, Matt looked at his snuggly boyfriend with a sigh. “Nothing works with singers. He gets pop culture references well enough, though, so I’ve done what I can.”  
“Sitting right here guys.” Shiro complained, reaching for his phone to check his messages.   
“Ok, so anyways. Back to our challenge, or dare if you will.” Pidge leaned forward, readying her chin of her hands, eyes gleaming.   
Matt and Shiro exchanged a look, communicating through their eyes, as only a completely trusting couple can. Hunk rolled his eyes, seeing that they had already made their decision, and banged his head on the table. Shay jumped, startled, then rolled her eyes like her boyfriend at his dramatics and followed suit, resting her head on the table.   
Matt finally looked at Pidge, a challenge obvious in his eyes. “Ok. Fine. I’ll ask Lance out as a dare. But if it goes sour, you are going to be the one that does damage control.”  
“Hell yea.” Pidge smirked, the challenge accepted and returned. Her and Matt shook hands with devious smiles on their faces.   
The Holt siblings had been daring each other since they were kids. Even though they were in high school, nothing had changed.   
The dare was simple: ask Lance out. See his reaction. Be sure to tell him that it was a dare, but not from Pidge. The little gremlin has a weird fascination with seeing how people responded to certain situations. This was no different.   
There was a party this weekend at one of the nearby student houses. That was the last day Matt had to complete the challenge. If not, he had to do Pidge, Lance, and Hunk’s homework for an entire month.   
The challenge had been issued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I have not and will not watch Voltron season 7. Personally, I have lost interest in the show itself because I just have I suppose. However, I do want to continue to write fan fiction because there is so much to explore. 
> 
> leave feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> leave feedback! everything is appreciated!


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